


better in your arms

by useyourtelescope



Series: Borrow My Heart [2]
Category: Sanditon (TV 2019)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Fluff, Married Couple, Office Sex, Regency, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-20
Updated: 2020-09-20
Packaged: 2021-03-07 18:48:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,543
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26562385
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/useyourtelescope/pseuds/useyourtelescope
Summary: When James seems strained by the pressures of work, Charlotte considers it her duty as a wife to help relieve some of his tension.She decides the best way to do that is to have sex with him in his office.
Relationships: Charlotte Heywood/James Stringer
Series: Borrow My Heart [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1861342
Comments: 12
Kudos: 28





	better in your arms

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! 😊 This is the promised follow-up to my fake relationship fic; you can probably read it without knowing that one since it's just a little piece checking in with the characters, but you won't have the backstory as to how we got here so I'd advise going to the series link and reading that one first.  
> Title is from a line in [this song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nGRSO00eT3k) from the TV show Nashville, which incidentally is what the previous fic was named after.

A prolonged betrothal, although rarely favoured by mamas eager to see their charges wed, often had the benefit of increasing the intimacy between the couple prior to their wedding, and though the betrothal between Miss Charlotte Heywood and Mr. James Stringer had begun as a pretence, the effect was nonetheless the same. By the time their wedding date arrived Charlotte felt she knew Mr. Stringer very well, and yet, in the two months since he had become her husband, she had come to learn much about him of which she had previously been unaware: no matter how late he stayed awake — and there had been some very late, very active nights since their wedding — he showed no signs of fatigue on waking in the early hours of the morning; although he enjoyed food, he did not dally at breakfast, regardless of whether they had an early engagement or not; when he had an idea for a design he could sit in his study for hours working on it, forgetting about food or sleep until she reminded him.

And when he had that particular line between his eyebrows he was likely to be just as forgetful, albeit for the opposite reason: he was stuck.

Charlotte had just arrived at the office, planning on spending some time with her husband before going to a meeting, and found him with that look on his countenance, frowning down at the papers on his desk. He had greeted her as she walked in but her coming and going had become such a regular occurrence that there was no need for him to stand every time she entered; though as she was often out handling arrangements for the upcoming grand opening she lately used it more for storing important documents than for working.

She removed her bonnet and gloves and placed them on the side table, next to the plant pot she had added to the room, and observed him carefully. His eyes seemed to be lacking some of their usual brightness and while James’ messily rolled-up sleeves and loosened neckcloth created an attractive sight for his wife she recognised these as the signs of growing frustration with his work.

“Is that the final sketch for Lord Byrd?” Charlotte asked.

“Yes. Though it is a sorry excuse for it.”

Her lips curved into a small smile at the resigned tone. She was used to hearing it when James spoke to his father after a doctor’s appointment if Mr. Issac Stringer didn’t wish to cooperate with the doctor’s advice, but she had heard it occasionally too when he was growing frustrated with a design. Charlotte took her place by his side, unfastening her spencer jacket as she looked down at the offending paper.

“I see what you mean,” she said wryly.

As she had hoped the plain statement surprised a laugh out of him since she was usually very encouraging with her comments. However, it would have been quite a task on this occasion to have stuck to her usual practice: the faint lines were only just starting to take shape on the paper and she could not entirely make out what James intended. 

“Where would I be without such a supportive wife,” he said dryly.

“You might do better if you had listened to her when she advised you not to take this project on so soon,” Charlotte said, though there was no real heat behind it. 

She heard him sigh behind her as she moved to hang her jacket, turning in time to see his regretful nod. 

“I know.”

It had been their first significant quarrel. Initially, Charlotte had struggled to understand why he would take on a project that required so much design work from him in such a short space of time when they were supposed to be focusing on the grand opening of his  _ current  _ project. James, on the other hand, was only too well aware of the many hours he had put in for so many years to be able to rise to his current position and had been unwilling to risk losing the custom of such a significant individual.

On reflection, Charlotte had come to see her husband’s position; it was certainly very gratifying for his services to be sought out by a Lord and it was likely that a request to extend the proposed finish date would cause Lord Byrd to look elsewhere for an architect. However, the culmination of so much hard work was no small thing in her mind and she did not see how James could equally give his attention to both tasks in the time they had. James had acknowledged her concerns but had reassured his wife that he did not fret for there was very little he had left to do himself on their current project; therefore he would have time to work on such a large design in a shorter time than usual and had accepted the work from Lord Byrd.

She could admit his workload had lessened recently, in part due to her involvement in the business. The arrangements for the opening fell under Charlotte’s purview, while the final touches to the building were being overseen by Mr. Robinson. But just because there was little left that James was  _ required  _ to handle directly, that did not mean he wouldn’t be involved. Charlotte felt her concerns justified as James still went to visit the site most days, even when there was no reason for it, but when she mentioned this to him he said that he blamed his abundance of caution to the slight delay they had experienced after the confusion with the delivery, when they should have received fittings but had instead been sent bricks.

The visual reminders from that day had mostly disappeared from his arm, apart from a faint scar left by the now healed deep cut to his upper arm. Charlotte had fallen into the habit of gently running her fingers over the mark whenever she saw James without his shirt — which was still a very common occurrence considering the couple had shared the same bed every night since their wedding, and either had yet to show any signs of growing tired of the intimacy that would cause him to remove it.

They planned to finally go on their bridal tour in two weeks, by which time the opening would have taken place and Charlotte hoped that it would provide them both with a nice break, both well-earned and much-needed in James’ case, she thought. From everything she had learnt from both James and his father, she did not think he had ever allowed himself one, even after his increase in income would have allowed him to afford one. But though she greatly admired her husband for his hard work, she did very much fear James would wear himself out if he continued in the manner he had been the last week. Although the imminent bridal tour would provide some respite, she hoped James would be able to use it for enjoyment rather than simply needing to recuperate — not only because she would like to enjoy his company for certain activities that would require his energies during it as well.

This passing thought gave Charlotte an idea for an unexpected means of assisting her husband with his current frustration.

She pursed her lips as she considered it, listening to the sounds from outside the room. The window was open so she could hear the thrum from the lively street, but the downstairs of the office sounded just as empty as when she entered.

“Do you know when the others will return?” she asked.

“Owen and Luke should return in twenty minutes or so, I suspect. The others will be later.”

Charlotte nodded, resting her hand on her husband’s shoulder as she wondered if she truly was going to suggest what had crossed her mind. She had grown bolder in the bedroom in the weeks since their wedding night, on which occasion she had been happy for James to take the lead, but this felt really rather scandalous despite their being husband and wife — but that somehow managed to increase its appeal. 

“I have an idea,” Charlotte said plainly, her fingers running over the back of his neckcloth.

“Yes?” he asked, looking up at her curiously. When his neck fell back against her hand, she tilted her palm to rest against the back of his head, trailing her fingers through the short lengths of hair. James’ eyes closed as she continued with the motion.

He looked so peaceful that she waited a minute to say, “I think you need a distraction from work. To help you relax.”

He smiled and opened his eyes to look at her, amused. “I didn’t think that was a new idea of yours.”

Charlotte matched his smile. “No, I suppose not.”

“If I recall on Monday you suggested I go for a walk to clear my head, but when I came home that evening you chided me for doing just that,” he said.

“Because I meant for you to go to the park — not to the building site and distract yourself with a different piece of work,” she said pointedly. “But, today I have a new idea.”

“And what is that, my love?”

Charlotte bit her lip, hesitating a moment longer. Then, in one swift motion, she moved her right hand to grasp the back of the chair, using her left to hitch up her skirt and petticoats before kneeling her legs on either side of his.

James had shifted immediately to make room for her, but she could tell from the shocked expression on his face that the movement had been purely from instinct.

“Charlotte…” he began uncertainly, his mouth hanging open. “You cannot mean…”

She smiled wickedly at him before giving him a kiss that showed she very much did.

He was plainly tempted, not only meeting her kiss easily but settling his hands on her hips as he did so. However, his sense appeared to be warring with his desire, for when he pulled away a minute later Charlotte could see the distinct furrow between his brows.

“We shouldn’t,” he said, though his hands flexed on her hips without releasing her.

“We have done so before,” she replied softly, smoothing down the lines on his forehead with her fingers.

“I think I would recall if we had!”

“Not  _ here _ ,” she said, unable to help the girlish laugh that escaped her lips at his astonished countenance. She kissed him again before explaining, “Last month when you were struggling to finish the last design for Mr. Mowbray?” 

She had been reading before bed that evening and on realising James was taking an unusually long time to join her she went searching for her husband, finding him in his study where she had left him hours before, hunched over his desk with several crumpled sketches before him. Charlotte’s initial attempts at reassurance had been innocent enough and when she had first kissed him it had only been to entice him to bed, but one kiss had led to another and before she knew it she had sat astride him and had even torn one of his buttons in her haste to free his shirt from his trousers. James had needed to carry her to bed after their exploits, though he had not fallen asleep so swiftly. 

“If I recall correctly you did an excellent sketch shortly afterwards,” she reminded him.

He laughed, ducking his head to press a kiss to her neck. “True,” he acknowledged, “but that was in my study at  _ home _ when we knew there was no danger of being disturbed.”

“You said no one will be back for twenty minutes — ”

“They  _ should _ not be back, but that does not mean they won’t return sooner.”

Despite his concerns, Charlotte smiled and pulled on the end of his already loosened neckcloth. Though his mouth was voicing the fears of his logical mind, his hands had started to run up and down her sides and she suspected were very likely to settle on her bottom soon if he did not talk himself out of it. “You are quarrelling with me, James, and yet I think you rather like my idea,” she said, adjusting her position so she could feel the evidence of it. “I think you like it very much.”

She could see his jaw work even as he smiled, despite himself. “I am not quarrelling with you, my love, I only…”

“Only?” Charlotte prompted. Her ringlets brushed against his nose as she pressed a kiss to his cheekbone.

“The lock is broken.”

“But the boys will knock before coming in ,  and we would hear them coming up the stairs.”

“I doubt that — you are very likely to drown out the sound of footsteps, Charlotte.”

She gasped in mock outrage at his impudence, squeezing her legs around him in retaliation. The action had him leaning his head back against the chair, eyes closing.

“Please James,” she whispered, kissing the underside of his chin. “I am only trying to do my duty to care for my husband.”

“So selfless,” he returned, sarcasm evident.

She continued kissing round the other side of his face until her lips had reached his ear.

“I promise I will be quiet.”

He hummed thoughtfully. “I believe you made the same promise three weeks ago when we were in the sitting room. Do you remember what happened then?” 

She giggled at the memory of an interrupted moment in the sitting room of their home when the maid had been cleaning in the next room. 

“How was I to know Emma would be cleaning then? If she had kept to her usual schedule there should have been no one in there.”

“Mmm, and what did Mrs. Gibbs say? That the poor girl thought someone had been maimed?”

Charlotte rolled her eyes at her husband’s smirk, remembering only too well the look on Mrs. Gibbs’ face that afternoon; on overhearing what she had described as “a terrible shriek”, innocent Emma had run to fetch the housekeeper who had gone to investigate what terrors lay in the sitting room herself. Although Mr. and Mrs. Stringer had made themselves presentable by the time Mrs. Gibbs entered, that astute lady had plainly realised the truth and Charlotte was unable to meet her eyes for a few days afterwards.

“I have learnt my lesson now. You won’t hear a word from me,” Charlotte said, pressing a kiss to his lips.”

His returning kiss was careful as if he was still considering her proposal. 

Leaning away, she gave him her most innocent look before saying, “If you truly don’t want to though, of course, I will leave you in peace.”

His gaze flickered to the door before settling on her face once more. “A few words would be preferable,” he said roughly before taking her lips once more.

Charlotte smiled against his lips, though she leaned away to pout when he continued in a more serious tone, “I will not undress you though.”

Certainly, this was sensible due to the time it would take to remove her many layers, but their current position reminded Charlotte well of the aforementioned night they had spent in his study and her extensive enjoyment of that evening had been aided in no small part by the contrast in their attire; James had removed her nightgown, leaving her naked while he had remained mostly clothed and the feeling of his linen against her skin had made the encounter feel more illicit, exciting her.

However, she supposed that making love to her husband in his office was, perhaps, illicit enough.

The sensation of his rough hand running slowly underneath her skirts and up her leg brought her back to the present. 

“Charlotte?” he said when her eyes were on his once more.

“Very well,” she agreed.

Although he had taken some convincing, now that he had made up his mind James did not linger, swiftly moving his kisses from her lips to those particular places on her neck that he knew excited his wife best. When his lips moved lower still, kissing just above the top of her dress, Charlotte sighed moving one hand from the chair to curl into his hair.

His hand that had been settled on her back drifted upwards until he began unbuttoning her dress. James made much swifter progress than he had managed on their wedding night when he had required not only the use of both hands but his eyesight as well to prise the delicate buttons from their openings; it seemed two months of regular practise had made Mr. Stringer adept enough that he could now manage the action with one hand, while his other rubbed the soft flesh of his wife’s thigh and his eyes were closed as he kissed the rounded tops of her breasts. 

Charlotte had no complaints regarding this increased proficiency, but she couldn’t help but breathlessly remind her husband, “I thought you weren’t going to undress me.”

“I’m not,” he said. Indeed, he unfastened the buttons only a third of the way down which would not have been enough to remove the dress entirely but was more than enough for him to push the sleeve of the dress down. 

“I am hardly presentable,” she said with amusement. 

James hummed, his object becoming clear when he loosened the ties of her undergarment and slid the neckline of her layers down far enough to reveal her left breast. His eyes glazed over as he stared at her, saying in a hushed tone, “I think you look remarkable.”

Charlotte could make no response for his lips swiftly settled over her nipple and she soon found it very difficult to quiet her moans as he sucked and kissed her breast.

He soon released her to admonish in a whisper, “Quiet, my darling.”

“It’s your fault,” she returned in a rather strangled voice, her grip of his hair tightening though he made no complaint.

“I do beg your pardon,” he said innocently. She could feel the curve of his boyish smile against her breast. “Would you like me to stop?”

“Don’t you dare.”

Ceasing his teasing, James continued with his attentions, eliciting another set of whimpers from his wife who tried harder to stifle them, biting her lip and turning her face into his hair to bury the sounds that she couldn’t help escape. 

She could feel the wetness gathering between her thighs, and her legs squeezed around her husband of their own accord. She felt James groan against her skin and she held onto him tighter, growing more impatient until finally, she could hold no more. 

She said only his name, but by this point in their marriage, James knew that pleading tone well — and though he sometimes enjoyed drawing his impatient wife’s pleasure out for longer, in their current situation it seemed wise to hasten her climax.

His hand that was already underneath her skirts moved to the juncture between her thighs; a slight touch with his fingers was all that he needed to ascertain that she was very much ready for him, and the moan she made at his touch only spurred him on more. 

He lifted her so that he could reach the fastening for his trousers and Charlotte’s eager hands moved to assist him with the buttons — something she too had grown more skilful at since she had first attempted it and failed on their wedding night, but she did not show that level of skill now, too heady to manage it easily.

He laughed at her fumblings, drawing a frown from his wife. 

“You’re too slow,” she complained.

“I think I will be faster if you let me do it myself,” he said, still laughing as he gently moved her fingers out of the way. “At the very least, it will save my trousers from needing mending.”

The colour in Charlotte’s cheeks had risen from her husband’s ministrations, and it heightened further still at this reminder of how her enthusiastic attentions had torn buttons from her husband’s clothes multiple times in the past — an action which had resulted in her sewing the buttons back on his shirt and trousers herself, too embarrassed to give the garments to the servants to fix. 

“That only happened twice,” she said, feigning a reproof in her tone.

“Thrice if I recall,” he corrected her, but he was soon distracted by the way her deepening blush trailed down to her breasts and his lips became engaged in a manner other than speaking. 

As much as Charlotte took pleasure in his distraction, she did not wish for her husband’s attention to be so diverted they were forced to bring their encounter to an abrupt and unsatisfying end if the others returned soon. 

A quick reminder of this possibility was all that was needed to return her husband to the task of unfastening his trousers and once James had freed himself, they both saw to the more difficult task of moving Charlotte’s many layers out of the way so she could take him inside her. 

She rested her forehead against his once she had taken all of him, James emitting an indecipherable groan that could not help but make his wife smile, and that smile widened when she squeezed around him and his head knocked back against the chair. 

The office chair was not the most comfortable, and Charlotte was certain she would feel its effects in her knees later, but it was certainly worth it to see her husband lose himself underneath her — something she rarely witnessed since he so often got her to that point first. But since becoming a wife Charlotte had discovered that she enjoyed taking charge occasionally in the bedroom (and other spaces, it seemed) and she delighted in his groaning of her name. 

“Darling,” she whispered.

He captured her lips between his, curling a hand into her hair. She had a passing thought that her ringlets were likely to become a casualty of this afternoon if she did not tell him to move his hand, but any such sensible thoughts fled from her mind when he thrust up into her. 

They moved together with practised ease and it did not take long for either to reach their peak, Charlotte biting down on her husband’s shoulder as she did so to muffle her cries.

She buried her face in his neck as she regained her breath after, listening to the strong beat of James’ heart beneath his chest as he ran a hand up and down her back. So content was she that when James first spoke to her, his deep tones washed over her and it took him squeezing her waist to draw her attention before she realised he was trying to tell her that he could hear footsteps downstairs. 

Now that she listened for them, so could she; they did not seem to be approaching the stairs, but it seemed sensible not to linger any further. The couple rose from the chair and made quick work of making their clothes presentable, though looking down at her chest Charlotte feared she still had too much colour, especially considering since she would be leaving shortly for her meeting with the caterers of the building’s grand opening celebration. 

“Do you think it will be very obvious?” she said when she had explained this concern to her husband. 

“I highly doubt this would be the first conclusion anyone would come to.”

“But I do look quite red?” she supposed, touching a hand to her cheek and feeling more heat than seemed usual.

“Not very — they will just think you had a brisk walk,” he said reassuringly, though Charlotte still frowned.

“I could leave my jacket on, but they might think me eccentric.”

James smiled. “I think if they were to question any part of your appearance it would be your hair,” he said and tugged playfully on one of her loose curls.

She lifted a hand to her coiffure and could feel that one side had lost its previously well-defined shape.

“And whose fault is that?” she said, amused. 

In the past, she might have pulled out her pins for speed, but she was a married woman now and it would raise far more eyebrows if she were to wear her hair loose than to wear it messy. Besides, as it was a business appointment she wished to display a certain amount of decorum. 

Although her bonnet would hide some of her sins, once she went indoors not to remove her bonnet for a lengthy meeting such as the one she was going to have would look even more strange than wearing a jacket.

James provided her with his mirror to assist her, but the small glass piece would not show her all her hair in one look. Setting it at her height on the shelf, Charlotte realised it was the same mirror James had used to clean himself when she had found him while they had still been pretending to be betrothed; the memory of how his state of undress had caused a fluttering within her at the time gave Charlotte some amusement — little had she known just how much more indecent they would be in the same room only months later.

“We will have to get a larger mirror to keep in here,” Charlotte said as she tried to right her curls.

“Oh?” she heard James’ deep voice behind her, full of mirth. “Is this to be a regular occurrence?”

Charlotte flushed slightly — an irritating response when her cheeks already had more colour than usual thanks to their exertions — but looked over her shoulder to bestow her husband with a scolding look. “Do you have any objections?”

“Only that I might start to find it rather difficult to do any work here if I have so many memories of my lovely wife,” James paused before finishing with a twinkle in his eye, “ _ assisting _ me so thoroughly.”

“That is true,” Charlotte acknowledged, smiling as she turned back to the mirror. “Perhaps we should try to keep our work and home life separate.”

She felt James’ hands come to rest on her waist before they moved to help her pin her hair into place. Ladies’ coiffures might not have been his speciality — though of late his hands had grown swift in unpinning her hair when they retired to bed — but James’ help made it easier to manipulate her curls into a more respectable style. 

When she thanked him for his assistance, James pressed a kiss into her right shoulder in reply. “Are you coming back to the office after your meeting?” he asked. 

“No, I’m going to see Olivia and the boys. But I best see you home in time for dinner,” Charlotte said, though this was not a serious scold. There had only been a few occasions he had been home late, and in those instances he was usually good enough to send a note before him.

“You have my word. In fact, I may be there before you.”

“Is that so?” she said curiously, turning in his arms.

He nodded, smiling. “I am suddenly feeling very inspired.”

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you guys enjoyed it! 💕  
> Also, last time a few people asked me about writing more for this pairing and I've been debating between a few ideas for my next longfic so I've made a post on my tumblr [here](https://useyourtelescope.tumblr.com/post/629721179662516225/help-me-choose-my-next-longfic) with the top contendors; feel free to let me know either below or on tumblr if you have a preference for what I should write next! 😊


End file.
